


A Gift

by 3rdstarksistr



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dominant Sandor, Dubious Consent, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Virgin Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdstarksistr/pseuds/3rdstarksistr
Summary: Sansa has been meeting with Dontos in hopes of escaping the Red Keep, but she is interrupted when the Hound finds them one night in the godswood. He has his own proposal for her.Post-Battle of the Blackwater where Sandor  stays in King's Landing.





	A Gift

Sansa knew what he was. She knew if he curled his hand around her neck that he could do it, could end her right here. She'd seen the Hound cut down those men during the bread riot. The world is built by killers, he told her.

She stands now watching him clean the blood off his dagger. Ser Dontos limp on the ground by his feet, his rotund form still stinking of wine. Silence surrounds them in this corner of the godswood.

His eyes look up to hers, and it takes all she can not to look away this time. He fastens his dagger back as his eyes narrow on her own. He saw her, saw Dontos pressing his lips on her. She can see the confusion in his eyes and the judgment. She looks down then, and he snorts.

"What are you doing out here with this fool, little bird?"

Her mouth opens, but there are no words.

"Look at me. No lies."

She looks up at him, tears starting to fall from her eyes. He comes toward her then, reaching down and grabbing her hand. He flips it over in his own and pries the necklace out of it.

"Explain this, or I will take you to Joffrey and you can tell him yourself."

Her eyes widen, she begs, "Please no, don't." He grabs her arm, and she says, "Please, I will tell you."

He loosens his grip slightly and focuses his attention on her.

"It was a gift. For saving his life on Joffrey's nameday."

"A gift." He laughs, no joy in it. "What gifts have you given him?" He says with a seething tone, his sudden bitter anger setting her heart beating even faster. He had said nothing, shown no emotion when he appeared from the darkness and quickly slit the fool's throat. Now he seems to boil with hate.

"Nothing, my lord," she says quietly, her courtesy only seeming to provoke him further.

"If you are not a maid..."

"I swear it, I swear."

"You just let any man, even a fool, touch you," he says with no less ire.

"I didn't want him to," she says, pleading.

"Then why? Necklaces mean so much to you, girl?"

"He said..." she stops herself.

"What did he say?" He grabs both of her arms now and shakes her.

"He said he would help me get away." She weeps now, and hides her face in her loosened hair.

It's a minute before she realizes he has said nothing, that she still stands in the godswood. She looks up at him, wondering, but then she knows what he's thinking. She didn't go with him the night of the Blackwater when he said Stannis would take the city. Yet here she was with Dontos.

"I'm sorry, I wish I had gone with you," she says, crying. "You were right."

"Shhh, little bird." He shushes her.

"I was so afraid they would kill you," she says quieter.

"I deserved it."

"I'm glad they didn't have you killed," she says. He looks at her strangely then. "What will you do with me?" She asks.

He bends toward her slightly, one of his hands moving to her back and heading lower. "I'm not a good man, little bird. If I keep this, there need be a gift or two. If you still want to go home."

"Ser?" She says, shocked at his suggestion. She said the wrong word though, and his hand is quickly around her neck as she had imagined before. She grabs at his arm, her eyes pleading as she tries to nod.

"Decide now or I will gladly tell the queen of your plan." He releases her. He would tell Cersei?

"What is it you want?"

"You'll see. I won't hurt you. Your choice."

"Choice?"

"Cersei won't kill you if I tell her, just keep you locked up or marry you to someone."

"If I choose you?"

"Then we will go."

She looks at Dontos's body going cold behind them, thinks how much of her dignity she's already lost. The Hound nearly took what he wanted before, remembering his dagger at her throat, how much longer will he wait? He has never hurt her truly. Cersei once said tears weren't a woman's only weapon.

"Little bird?" He asks, and she looks up into his grey eyes, feeling less sure of anything in her life. He touches her cheek not ungently, his fingers warm and rough, and makes her wonder.

"I don't want you to tell the queen." She's surprised to almost see a spark in his eyes as she says this.

"You agree then?"

"A gift."

"Yes," he says, the corner of his mouth turning up in a less than reassuring way, as she sees his eyes look down toward her lips. He is quick then to claim them. Nothing could have prepared her for him. Not Joffrey's light pecks or Dontos's slobbering. She's balances on her tiptoes as he has her pulled against his chest. His hands press into her as he takes over her lips, overwhelming her. His sudden passion makes her feel strangely warm and more than confused. His mouth then traces down to her neck where he sinks his teeth into her and she gasps. Her mind reeling, she tries to gain ground by finding purchase on his armor. He lowers her suddenly, his hands following her arms to her hands on him.

"I will take you back now and then return at a later hour."

"We leave tonight?" She says, surprised.

"Not tonight."

"Then?"

"My gift first, little bird," he says, clearly amused.

"But? I thought..."

"You are the gift," he says, taking her arm in hand to lead her back. She follows along, wondering what exactly she has agreed to.

  
In her chamber, he had left her, and Sansa waits. She did needlework for a bit, but as the hour grew late, she lied down in bed, sleep far from her mind, as the candles burned low. His eyes seem like all she can think of, the intensity they bear nearly suffocating her. Usually angry but always questioning, assessing her. He had looked at her just so before he left her here, not saying a word, but she could feel the warning in them, the promise that he would return and expect her compliance.

To think of him here in her room. She will be at his mercy, and the thought brings up all manner of fear. She clings to how he said he won't hurt her, how he never has, how he covered her in his cloak after Ser Meryn had beaten her, and how he saved her in the bread riots from sure ruin. He even killed Ser Dontos just now, seemingly for laying a hand on her.

But he is not an honorable man, he spits on knight's vows and would not take them. She knows why though, his brother. She lays a hand on her chest thinking of that horror, what he's lost. No wonder he is like he is, she thinks. She remembers how he looked at her the night of the Blackwater, how frightened she was, and is rattled by a knock on the door, his knock.

She takes a deep breath before rising and heading to the door. She barely has it open before he rushes in, nearly shoving her back as he turns toward the door and bars it.

"My lord?" She questions.

"Took you long enough. And none of that."

"I don't know what to call you."

"My name, girl. You're about to know me well enough."

How can he be like this? She thinks, before turning away, regretting everything now. She was stupid to think he wouldn't hurt her, and now he's here. She starts to cry, her head in her hands. Then she feels his hands lightly cup her shoulders.

"I don't want you crying," he says quietly but serious.

"Then don't be mean," she whispers.

"What is that, little bird?" He asks turning her around slowly and lifting her chin up slightly. He isn't in his armor now, and she can feel the warmth of him so close.

"I said don't be mean please." She says, letting the tears dry on her face.

He looks at her differently then, and she feels her heart race as he traces around her face with his fingertip, his eyes following.

His hand then goes back into her hair, taking hold of it, surprising her, as his eyes come back to her own. "I won't be," he says, and she's not sure what to believe. "Don't try to stop me," he tells her next, making her eyes go wide.

"I don't think I could."

"You said yes, little bird. I don't want to hear you now say no."

"I understand," she says, unsure.

"You do?"

"You'll tell the queen."

He almost looks pained, seems to hesitate, but then his hands are at her shoulders again, taking hold of her dress she left on, and gentler than she would have thought he starts to pull it off her shoulders.

"It's wrapped," she says, and goes to undo a clip.

"Not sure why you still have it on," he says, but without his typical bite. "Let me," he says, taking a seat on her bed. His big hands undo the ties. She knows she's shaking as he unwraps the fabric from around her waist. He slowly undrapes the silk from her body and leaves it in a heap on the floor. His hands then slide around her waist over the boning of her corset.

"Relax, little bird," he says when he looks up into her eyes.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can, breathe."

He keeps looking into her eyes as one hand starts to go down the side of her hip, her eyes flick to it, and she starts to shy away.

"Sansa," he says, and her eyes go back to his. "Look at me." She nods.

"Good," he tells her, but she gasps when his hand starts to pull up her shift.

"My lord?" She questions, feeling his hand on her thigh, and she takes a step back.  
He looks at her, raises his one eyebrow, and that's all he has to do. She dare not test him. "I mean Sandor," she says. His lips part, clearly not expecting her to say his name.

"Come here, little bird, I told you I wouldn't hurt you." She steps back in front of him tentatively. "You haven't let a man touch you, have you?" He says as he starts to pull at her corset laces.

"Of course, I haven't."

"It's not exactly easy to get to," he says, looking up at her with a bit of a smirk. She can't help but smile a little, forgetting herself.

"That's better," he says. "This doesn't have to be bad for you. I'd rather it not be." He frees her from the corset then and stands, taking it off her.

"How can it not be bad?" She says, covering her mouth as soon as she says it and no doubt blushing fiercely.

He takes her hand from her mouth and kisses it, all the while looking at her. He then takes her face in his hands and lowers his head to kiss her mouth. It's not as urgent as his kiss in the godswood, almost soft, until his hand threads into her hair and tugs at it, making her mouth open and his only claim her more. She could almost forget it's the Hound, as he holds her like this, her eyes closed while warmth spreads through her. He continues to kiss her, his hands caressing her, and her mind starts to become unclear, this is supposed to be bad, she had thought.

He stops suddenly, his hands going down her body, and the next thing she knows her shift is off, and his hands are at her small clothes next. "Sandor?" she says.

"It's okay, little bird," he says, as he removes them. He takes his tunic off before coming back to her. Her eyes widen at seeing him so bare and knowing she's now naked before him. He runs his hands through her hair before kissing her again. He stops to look at her, and she's fully aware that it is the Hound, Sandor Clegane, who is here in her chambers, having undressed her.

His hand closes around one of her breasts, and she gasps, but his hand behind her holds her securely. She looks up at him, embarrassed and afraid, and he watches her as he circles the nipple before pinching it between his fingers. She's confused by the sharp warmth it shoots through her, so intense, and buries her face in his chest.

"Sandor, please," she says, humiliated.

"Little bird, what is it?" He says, petting down her hair.

She feels her tears return, and Sandor does, too, as he quickly, pulls her back and looks her in the eye. "Did I hurt you?"

"I don't think so."

"Was it bad?"

"I'm not sure."

"I'm going to touch you again," he says as his hand returns to knead her breast. She takes a heavy breath, almost panting, especially when he catches on her nipple, and it makes her eyes half-close. She looks up at him, asking, "Sandor?"

The look on his face could only be described as awe. He drops down suddenly and takes her other nipple into his mouth, making her gasp, her hands digging into his hair. He holds onto her strong though, and she cannot escape his attention. She squirms as the warmth pulses through her and he continues to suck on her, switching breasts even.

She's almost lost in it when he releases her, saying, "Gods, little bird," and taking her face in his hands and kissing her with as much fervor as he showed her breasts and pulling her against him. Her hands find their way to his chest, almost on instinct to hold on while his hands run over her body.  
When he pulls back, his eyes are almost wild, heightening her nerves to see him so. He must see her trepidation because he takes a deep breath, settling his hands on her waist almost to hold her in place.

"Come here," he says, taking her hand and pulling her closer to the bed. He hesitates but then starts to remove his breeches. She sees his hip and then quickly looks away before she could catch sight of more of him.

"Sansa," he says, "look at me."

She whines but looks to his face. Her eyes going wide as he moves closer to her.

"It's okay," he says, as he takes her hand in his. She's very uncomfortable now, all the headiness of the moment before gone.

"Sandor, I don't know."

"Sansa," he says, the edge to his tone, reminding her of the position she's in. He sighs then though and takes her face back in his hands. "You really think I'd hurt you, my little bird?"

She looks into his eyes, hard but concerned. "You could," she says. "But I don't think so." There's an edge there, she knows it too well. He has all the power. She may be a highborn lady of long lines of noble houses, but she feels more subject to this man than any. He holds her fate in his hands, but she's not sure she would trust it to any other.

As if reading her thoughts, he tells her, "I want you to trust me."

"That is a lot to ask."

"I know." He says, as they look into each other's eyes for some time.

"I will," she says quietly, knowing she does some already. She would not have agreed to this had she not trusted him enough to follow through on his word. He means for her to trust him even more though she knows.

Her words must please him as he answers, "Good," and squeezes her hand.

"Sit," he tells her as he returns to the bed and takes a seat.

She walks over next to him, but he touches his thigh, and she realizes he wants her there. She perches herself on his knee and looks over to see him amused.

"Ever the little lady." He says with a laugh and pulls her closer. "I won't bite."

"Yes, you do."

He laughs more, and she's almost surprised how relaxed he seems now.  
"Is there more?" She asks him, unsure where he's going now since he seems in no hurry as his hands ghost down her back and through her hair and he looks at her.

"Want me gone?" He asks. She looks at him, uncertain what answer to give him, but he doesn't push it. "There's much more, little bird."

Her mouth falls open, surprised.

"Did you like this?" He says, as he takes her breast in hand, massaging it.

"It's different," she says, though she's aware how strangely good it feels.

"Don't be afraid," he tells her as he pulls her closer with his arm around her. His hand moves from her breast down to her thighs. Sandor kisses the side of her face breathing in deep, and tells her, "Open your legs, little bird."

She turns her head to look at him, hesitant. She starts to part them, and he smirks, his eyes darkening. She feels his hand slide slowly up and in between her legs. "Sandor," she squeaks, burying her face against his chest again and closing her legs back.

"Sansa, it's okay, little bird. Trust me."

"I'm trying."

He sighs and bends his head to her ear, "I want this from you."

It makes her seize up, she dare not test him. She looks up at him, "You won't make it bad, will you?"

"I won't." He says, nudging her legs apart. She closes her eyes and tries to breathe.  
"Look at me, little bird."

She whines, opening her eyes to see his gray ones watching her. "Can't I close them?"

"Why do you want to?"

"Because you're touching me there."

"I'm not yet. Will you calm down?" Yet, she gulps.

"It's humiliating. I don't even touch myself there."

He looks at her strangely then, and tells her, "Touch yourself."

"What?" She says, shocked.

"You heard me," he says. "Nothing wrong with it."

She knows she must, so she takes a deep breath and then extends her hand down to the place between her legs.

"Tell me what you feel," he says.

She looks at him with wide eyes, but he only arches his brow, indicating his seriousness. "It's rather wet and soft."

"Yes," he says, the way his eyes light up confusing her.

"Is that okay?"

"It's very good." Next thing she knows his hand is on top of hers and pressing down. He starts to rub back and forth, and the feeling it elicits shocks her to her core. She must look shocked as Sandor nods to her. He starts to move their hands in a circle motion, and she has to grab onto him, it's so strange.

"You're getting wet for me, little bird," he says to her. She's surprised when he pulls her hand up and takes her fingers into his mouth. He returns to her with just his hand and tells her, "Let me know if I'm hurting you."

She's not sure what to feel as his fingers touch her, it's even more intense, and all of a sudden she gasps as he hits a particular sensitive spot. He does it again, and she questions him, "Sandor?"

"Bad?"

"I don't know."

He kisses her then, continuing to touch her, and she's not sure what to think, but something in her doesn't want it to end. She starts to kiss him back some, just testing, and she can feel him increase his pressure on her. Then his hand starts to move down and suddenly it hurts a little, and she tries to pull back. His finger presses more, and she cries out.

"Shhh," Sandor responds.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me."

"This part might hurt a little."

"Why are you doing it then?"

He lets out a little laugh. "This is your cunt, little bird," he says, and she can feel his hand down there. "It's where I'm going to fuck you, but you're still a maid." His harsh language takes her off-guard and makes her want to crumple into a little ball on her bed. She wants to pull away, but he has hold of her.

"Kiss me like you were," he tells her. "Don't scream."

He returns to her lips, and she tries to kiss him like he said. Two of his fingers are pressing into her though, rather painfully. He covers her mouth and then presses more sharply into her, and it is so painful. He pulls away then and his fingers out of her, and she sees the blood on them. She feels shocked and hurt all in one and moves out of his grasp, planting her face in her pillow. She knows enough to know it was her maidenhood, she had heard it would hurt. It just seemed different than she imagined.

"Sansa," she hears him, as though far away, but then he's there next to her, rolling her over.

"It's okay, little bird," he says in a soft rasp. "That's the worst part, I tried to make it easier. Believe me." He takes her head in his hands before kissing her forehead and then her lips. His hands trail down over her, and it's almost comforting if he weren't the source for her discomfort this night.

One of his hands goes for her woman's place, and he tells her, "Let me." He touches her as he had before the pain, but she holds back more this time. It's not until he starts to kiss her neck that she finds herself getting lost in how he makes her feel. It surprises her then when he stops kissing her to tell her, "I'm going to fuck you now."

She lies there frozen as he pulls up, and she doesn't resist when he spreads her legs further and gets between them. This is it, she thinks, why he's really here. She finally feels brave enough to look down at his manhood in his hand now. Strange, all of this is strange to her.

He lowers down over her, and he seems to cover her completely. His arm next to her like the bar of a cage. His eyes are watching her, and she tries not to cry. Then she feels him against her, rubbing where his hand was, and she closes her eyes, and turns her face away.

"Look at me," he is quick to tell her.

She turns back, telling him softly, "But I'll cry."

She can see his jaw set, his displeasure clear. He breathes out hard, his hand reaching down, and she feels him move himself to her entrance. She looks up at him, pleading. Water brims in her eyes, threatening to pour forth.

"Little bird," he says with a sigh. She's surprised he pulls away to lie down next to her. "Fuck," he says, his hand running through his hair.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it. I don't know if I can give you what you want. Please don't take me to Joffrey."

"Stop being afraid, I'm not going to hurt you. I told you the hard part is over. Sansa..." He says, frustrated.

"It's a big thing for me."

"If I was going to rape you, it would be done." He turns to her, and pulls her alongside him. His hands on her now almost feel familiar. He pulls her arms up around his neck and tells her, "Kiss me, little bird." She closes her eyes and presses her lips to his, and he responds slowly, almost seeming to savor her attention. Warmth spreads through her, and she knew it wasn't bad before, but she hates to admit she doesn't remember feeling this good in a long time.

Everything is unknown and strange to her, but he has been patient and careful with her. He's been trying to please her, not force her. Still, she never meant for him to have these things, he's still pushing her, taking these things from her, and she can't really tell him no. It would be no different with any man she was told to marry, but she is not the Hound's wife.

As he kisses her though, she can feel how much he wants her, how even precious she is to him. She was so afraid to be naked with him, but he was almost soothing and thoughtful as he undressed her. Every time he calls her little bird, it pulls at her inside.

He stops their kiss and softly tells her, "Let me have you."

It makes her tense, and she pulls back and looks at him. All his armor off and away from court, he doesn't seem like the Hound lying here in bed with her, tenderly caressing her, wanting her. He's another man, the real man he is, the one who must care for her. She asks him, "You will take me home?"

"Yes, little bird."

"You care about me?"

His eyes become more alert then, almost challenging. He's uncomfortable, she realizes.

"I'm the only one here," she tells him. "You do though?"

He looks down, then back at her, "Aye, I do."

"You won't abandon me?" She's surprised to hear herself saying.

He looks surprised by her question, "You think I would?"

"I don't know. If you have me and we leave here, you wouldn't leave me out there somewhere, would you?"

"Little bird," he says, pulling her tight against him. "You'd have to tell me to go. And I still might not." He laughs, then kisses the top of her head. "No one will hurt you again. They're all afraid of me. I'd kill anyone who dared."

She tightens her hold around his neck before pulling back to find his eyes. Something looses inside her, and she's not sure how to say it as vulnerable as she feels, but there's acceptance there now. His hand runs up and down her back, and she can see him read her as he watches her. He must understand as his leg slips between hers, and then she feels him against her.

"Sandor," she whispers, grabbing hold of his shoulders.

"It's okay, little bird," he says, as his hand goes down to position himself. His eyes stay on hers, and she gasps when he eases into her. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her bottom as he pushes further inside her. Her breathing grows heavy and her eyes widen at the strange feeling of him there. The stretching hurts as he pushes more and more.

"Alright?" He asks her.

"I don't know."

"How does it feel?"

"Strange."

"Tell me how my cock feels, little bird," he says more urgently as he starts to move more inside her.

"Um, big," she says.

"Yes," he smirks slightly, pressing her over on her back. "And?"

"Hard." He presses harder, and she can't help but moan, panting, as he slides in and out of her, the rhythm lulling her.

"You're so good right now," he tells her, bending down to kiss her neck.

"Thank you," she says, softly, and she hears him laugh.

He kisses her then, and she can't believe the warmth rushing through her, it almost feels good to have him so consuming her. He slows down some, moving in and out of her, and she rolls her head back, her eyes half-closed at the pleasure. He bites her then, and she moans, not knowing what she wants but this, more of this.

"Every time my cock is hard, I will be having you, little bird." He tells her, and she looks up at his eyes, they're so dark, he looks wild, like a snarling hound. She feels trepidation at his words, she thought it was the once, her maiden's gift he wanted.

"Say you want it," he tells her. She hesitates, unsure, and he breathes out hard. He pins her legs back then, and she gasps as he thrusts deeper and slower into her. She could lose herself in this. "Say it," he repeats.

"I want it," she says in a whisper.

"Louder."

"I want it. I really want it." She says as she pants, holding onto him as he starts to thrust harder. She feels like she's throbbing as the pleasure builds in her and she moves as much as can against him, chasing something that's beyond her but everything right now.

He hums, pleased she can tell.

"You want my cock, don't you, little bird?"

"Yes, Sandor."

"It's good, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sandor," she says, breathless, as he continues to make her mind reel with every motion.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he says, as he increases his speed, making her cry out.

"Shhh," he shushes her, slowing. "Gods, little bird. The whole kingsguard will hear you."

"I'm sorry," she says, looking up at him.

"Don't worry," he says, bending down to kiss her quickly. "I'll take you away from here, and then you can be as loud as you want when I fuck you."

"But I thought..."

"You're mine now, little bird. Don't you see that."

She cries out again as he thrusts harder, but then he slows. He suddenly reaches over for the handkerchief on her bedside table. "Here," he says, putting it in her mouth. Her eyes go wide, shocked, but then he's thrusting hard again, over and over. She bites into the cloth, muffling her moans. She can feel the strength of him as he takes over, his hands back on her legs, pinning them as he continues harder.

He's breathing so hard, his eyes lost in the moment, and she feels like she's nearing a breaking point when he suddenly pulls out of her and spills on her belly.

"Fuck, little bird," he says, falling heavily to her side. His chest is rising and falling as he breathes hard, regaining himself.

She takes the handkerchief out of her mouth and cleans up the sticky mess he left on her with it. She gets up to wash herself. She can tell she will be sore as she tries to walk. She gets a wet cloth and goes behind her screen and washes off.

"Little bird." She hears him say.

"Yes, Sandor."

"Come back."

She finishes quickly, and then goes and sits on the bed, facing him. He's watching her and reaches out to touch a strand of her hair. He pulls on her arm next, he must want her to lie down. She does so, and he pulls her next to him. It seems strange, she thought he'd just leave, but nothing has been what she expected of him. His deep breathing is almost a comfort. They lay there for awhile, every now and then his fingers running through her hair, trying to detangle it. She worries how she will feel when he leaves, knowing what he's taken from her.  
He stirs, finding her face. He looks into her eyes, and she knows he's trying to read her. "You did good," he tells her.

She's not sure what to say.

He kisses her then, tenderly for him she knows. She's surprised when his hand goes down to slide between her legs and pulls back.

"I want you again."

"But I'm sore and the hour grows late, my lord."

"You didn't have trouble saying my name with my cock in you." She winces when his fingers go to her entrance. "Alright," he says, pulling his hand away.

"Thank you," she says.

"Always so good," he says, taking her nipple between his fingers, making her squirm a little. He smirks, enjoying it. He then softly runs his hands over her before getting up and starting to put on his clothes. She pulls the sheet up over her body.

Dressed, he tells her, "Come here."

"But..."

"Sansa," he says with authority she knows better than to test.

She gets up with the sheet, but he's already pulling it aside before she stands. His hands find her bare skin, and he takes a handful of her bottom and squeezes it. He kisses her then, and she could almost melt into his want for her.

"You're mine now. Don't let any other man touch you, I'll know if they do," he says with all seriousness looking at her. "You understand?"

"I'm not yours though truly."

"You think you can marry some lordling after I've fucked you. No, girl, I'd kill them if any tried as it is."

She looks down, sad for the future she has lost, though it was probably gone before tonight. It unsettles her how he feels some ownership over her now.

"What is it?" He asks, raising her chin.

She can't hold back the tear that falls, "I'd like to be alone now."

She sees his jaw set. "Make sure you pack some things, hide it away. We'll leave soon. Tomorrow maybe."

She nods to him. He turns to the door, unbarring it. He turns back, his hand reaching out to touch her hair, softly petting her. "It'll turn out, little bird, you'll see. I'll take you home."

"Winterfell?"

"Winterfell," he says, taking a long breath, looking at her before turning to go.

She curls up in bed, relieved to be alone. She doesn't think of the ache she feels of what she gave up, but instead pictures tall stone walls, fresh snow, and faces she knows well, her family, her people. Her mind though turns to him, Sandor, the Hound, the good, the bad in him. He was almost gentle with her, calling her his little bird, but she feared displeasing him. Nothing was what she thought, all the strange things he made her feel. He wanted to please her, wanted her to give herself willingly to him. Mine, he said though, and that unsettles her the most. In his mind, she belongs to him now. What has she done?

 

 


End file.
